


Warm Front

by inabsurd



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabsurd/pseuds/inabsurd
Summary: Gon can’t change the weather. No matter how he tries, he can’t change what Killua is; a dark cloud in Gon’s life that he won’t recognize as a hindrance.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	Warm Front

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oliver__Niko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/gifts).



> written for my friend Ollie as the winner of my November fic raffle! I hope you like it and thanks again for entering! I had so much fun writing these two I might just have to come back for more <3

Killua isn’t used to losing control of his own body anymore. It’s a once-familiar sensation he remembers from his childhood, back when he was new to training and still building up his immunity to the various poisons his family fed him. He hasn’t ingested any poison though, not even in a small dosage, and he hasn’t been this wiped out from training in _years,_ so why, now, does he feel like he’s no longer in charge of his own skin? 

His body trembles violently against Gon’s, freezing in every spot except for where he’s pressed tight to his friend’s side.

"This sucks,” he grumbles. His head ducks lower, even as he berates himself for looking even more pathetic than he already feels.

Killua can feel the bump of Gon’s chin turning to check on him, but he can’t quite bring himself to meet his friend halfway. He presses a little bit closer, though, as a compromise with himself. Gon’s warm and he’s _freezing,_ it’s just what he needs to do.

“We must’ve trained too hard,” Gon offers, a sheepish laugh in his voice.

“No way!'' Even that small outburst shakes him inside and out, and Killua has to suppress the cough that tickles at his throat. “I went easy on you!” 

Killua still won’t turn his head, but he knows Gon well enough by now to picture the stupid face he’s making behind closed eyelids. “Mm, well, _you’re_ the sick one, so I should have gone easy on _you,”_ he points out.

That grin like a break in the storm, that’s the face Gon is making. Killua can tell.

“Yeah, right,” he sniffs.

Gon laughs, just a little, but he doesn’t tease anymore. Killua’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed by that, so he just focuses on not sagging completely into Gon’s hold as he stops to unlock their hotel room.

Killua is lowered gently into his bed, still mussed from sleep the night before. “This seems a little excessive,” he points out, “I can put myself to bed.”

Gon releases him and the shivers start up tenfold without the other boy’s body heat to keep him warm. Moreover, he can’t avoid Gon’s gaze now that he’s not pressed against him. The mixture of concern and amusement isn’t exactly what he expected to find, but it’s not a bad discovery either.

“Mito always puts me to bed when I’m sick,” he counters. Killua’s brain takes a foggy moment to link Gon’s phrase to his own.

A shaky smirk pulls at his lips, _“Ooh,_ your _aunt_ has to take care of you?”

“She does!” Gon grins, not a hint of embarrassment on his face despite Killua’s teasing. “Gran always makes stew for me and Mito sits by my bed and tells me all sorts of stories. They take really good care of me.” Something soft and warm and _loving_ shines in Gon’s eyes the way it so often does when he talks about home, and, when his eyes fall back on Killua, that light remains. “So, I’ll take really good care of you, Killua!”

That damn heat is back, not warming Killua up in the slightest except for to burn his cheeks a shade of red more obvious than a bloodstain. He sinks into the bed rapidly and allows the blanket to swallow up his face from view. “So where’s my stew?” he grumbles in an attempt to distract from the energetic beat of his heart.

“Ah, well…” Gon rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I can’t really cook, so…” his arm drops suddenly, “I’ll order room service, though, and keep you company!”

“Room service is no substitute for Mito’s cooking.” Killua points out.

His friend sticks out his tongue in lieu of an actual answer and picks up the phone.

_Well, that’s fine too,_ he supposes. He leans further into his pillow and watches in mild amusement as Gon gets more into whatever conversation he’s having with the hotel staff. It takes him a moment to process exactly what he’s hearing—

He shoots up. “Gon! Are you bringing an army to eat all that food?”

“We always eat this much!”

Killua grumbles but doesn’t say a word. Usually, they _do_ eat a lot, and he doesn’t have the heart to say that he’s not feeling it today. He _hates_ being sick. No training, no eating contests; Gon will wipe the floor with him at this rate! Then what will he do if he falls behind?

He scowls, a yawning cavern opening up somewhere in his chest.

Gon flops down on the bed next to him, bouncing at the impact. “So, do you wanna watch a movie while we wait?” he offers, grinning again like nothing’s wrong, like Killua isn’t holding him back.

“You don’t have to wait with me, you know.”

Gon’s smile falls. Killua could hit himself for being the one to take it away, but this needs to be said. Doesn’t Gon realize that he’s a liability right now?

“Why wouldn’t I?” his friend’s head tilts the way it always does when he’s genuinely confused by something, and he’s not sure whether to laugh or to scream.

He settles for something less dramatic. “Just because I’m stuck in bed doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“Training’s no fun without you, though.”

Killua blinks. “Don’t pout!” his hand collides with Gon’s head, shoving the other boy into the comforter rather violently, “How are you gonna get stronger if you slack off, huh?” A muffled response echoes from the blankets, but he doesn’t need to hear it to know.

“Whatever,” huffs Killua. Discreetly, he scoots further to his side of the bed to give Gon space to settle properly.

His friend’s grin is back as if it had never been missing at all, an impossibly bright sun to burn out the fog of Killua’s gloom and doom. He feels so stupid when Gon grins at him like that; like there’s not a cloud in the sky when all he can see is an endless expanse of greying storms brewing on the horizon. Gon has a way of making the harsh gales seem like nothing, though, just by out-stubborning Killua’s tempest. Sometimes, it’s like Gon doesn’t even realize he’s braving a hurricane, so certain that where he’s found safety in its eye, Killua will, too.

But Gon can’t change the weather. No matter how he tries, he can’t change what Killua _is;_ a dark cloud in Gon’s life that he won’t recognize as a hindrance.

“So, movies?” Gon offers again.

Killua flushes at being caught in that particular train of thought. “I have a headache,” he tries to snap, but the words fall flat and come out more dumbfounded than anything else. It’s all far too honest, as far as he’s concerned, and he has to turn away from the other boy to try to hide what he can. They don’t keep many secrets, but this _compulsion_ to press in closer, to take the other boy’s warmth for himself, is an exception. Whether it’s because he fears for Gon’s safety—his family would surely try to kill his friend if they realized just how far Gon’s influence on him spreads—or because he can’t bear the thought of being the one to dim Gon’s light, he’s not sure, but it’s a line Killua is careful not to cross.

The other boy is completely unperturbed by Killua’s refusal. “That’s fine,” he pulls himself under the comforter, suddenly much closer to Killua. “We can just lay here, too. Do you wanna sleep?”

“Not really,” he answers honestly. He’s tired, ridiculously tired, but his brain is going a mile a minute, nevermind what his heart is doing, and he knows that he won’t get any rest as long as these thoughts circle in his mind. Impulsively, he asks, “Distract me?”

Gon’s never been one to hesitate, and that holds true even for strange requests like this. “Hm...oh! Remember when I was in the city with Leorio for a few days?” Killua nods. “I became sorta famous over there!’

“What? No way.”

His friend nods enthusiastically, “Did too! We were in the market and there were these two thieves. We caught the first one and returned the book they stole to the owner and then we chased the second. And then, a few days later, we broke up a mugging and Leorio saved this old man’s life! It was so cool!”

Killua snickers. “So, what?” he asks, “You guys became local heroes?”

“More like local cryptids,” Gon laughs. “See, we were always in such a hurry so we didn’t really have time to actually introduce ourselves...we started hearing stories about a ‘green gremlin’ and his ‘pervy old-man’ who ran around town doing good deeds! Leorio was so mad!”

Laughter breaks out from Killua’s throat. “Oh, man, I wish I coulda seen that! He probably scared a lot of people!”

Gon sits up, then, raising both hands to his sides in a very monkey-like fashion. Then, lowering his voice, he yells, “I’M EIGHTEEN! EIGHTEEN, YOU HEAR ME?”

His Leorio impression is spot-on, and Killua devolves into frenetic laughter that shakes his whole body. He laughs until his lungs hurt, and laughs breathlessly through the coughing fit that follows. His throat is sore by the time he finds air again, but Gon’s hand is warm on his shoulder and he is already passing Killua a cup before he can even ask for one, so it’s not so bad.

They lay back down, feeling much more sober in the aftermath of Killua’s coughing fit. They pull the blanket over their heads wordlessly, and their knees bump companionably as they press in close. It’s early in the day, and Gon shines even under the covers, illuminated by a window outside their quiet cocoon.

“You really should get some sleep,” Gon says softly, “You’ll feel better after you rest.”

“Maybe,” Killua admits. Except, he won’t rest. Not when Gon is close enough that he can feel the flutter of the other boy’s breath fanning through his hair. How is he supposed to sleep like that, with his heart doing stupid little flips like he really has been poisoned after all? “What about room service?” he asks, trying to draw Gon’s attention away from himself in an attempt to actually relax.

A hand claps onto Gon’s face and nearly hits Killua on the way. “I forgot,” he admits, a shy smile peeks out from under his palm. Glancing around as if the sheets will hold the answers, he asks, “Shouldn’t they have been here already?”

“You’d think so…” Killua pauses, thinking.“Gon, what room did you have the food delivered to?”

“Five-hundred-twenty-two,” he answers, and Killua cringes.

“Gon, this is the _penthouse. ”_

“What? You’re joking!”

“You booked the room, how did you not know?”

“They switched our room when I showed them my Hunter Card!”

“And you didn’t check where they moved us?”

“I didn’t think it mattered as long as I could get to the lobby and back!”

Killua sighs. “Well, the people in five-twenty-two are about to have a feast,” he means to grumble, just so Gon will learn to pay more attention, but it comes out unmistakably fond.

Gon smiles back, soft and knowing. “Should I call and fix it?”

“Don’t bother,” he says. He hopes his cheeks aren’t burning too brightly. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“That’s good. I’m too comfy to move.” Despite this, Gon does move. He scoots into Killua’s personal space even though he’s sick and Gon really should just get back to training. He continues moving in until Killua is seeing double and is forced to close his eyes to spare himself the worsening headache.

Eyes shut and head and heart pounding in tandem, he pays no mind when Gon shifts again. He doesn’t really notice the movement until he feels something soft and warm on his lips and the flutter of Gon’s breath directly against his skin.

It’s over again before Killua can even open his eyes, and he’s left face-to-burning-face with his best friend.

Killua and Gon are rarely on the same page, but they’re good at reading each other and silently communicating. Still, something about what just happens seems to fizzle out and die in his brain, taking any understanding with it. “Did you just…” he doesn’t want to say what he thinks that was for fear of being wrong and showing his hand, but he can’t even begin to puzzle out the _why_ of it until he knows the _what._

Gon is beet red. The _what_ should be obvious, but, somehow, the silent nod he receives still feels momentous. Like Killua has just had an epiphany and every impossible task is a hair’s breadth away—the same distance between himself and Gon.

Killua is the one to move in this time. With Gon’s lips on his, they can do anything, even change the weather.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually written HXH fic before so feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow me on  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/inabsurd)  
> [Tumblr](https://inabsurd.tumblr.com/)


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